“Julia lives with her mother,” said Luke. “Maybe now is the time to give her a call.”
“Too bad Julia couldn’t find someone else to like—someone who likes her in return.”
“That’s what I keep hoping will happen. That, or she’ll get bored watching this place day after day.”
The conversation reached a lull. Bridgette figured her soup was now cold and her sandwich had gotten soggy. “If you need me to do anything,” Bridgette said. “Let me know. I’m happy to help.”
“Sure,” said Luke. “Hopefully, her mom will talk sense into Julia.”
“Hopefully,” said Bridgette. She gave Luke a little wave and returned to her apartment. She closed the door and pressed her forehead into the wood. Her heartbeat hammered against her ribs and her breath came in short gasps. It wasn’t knowing about the slightly unhinged woman that left Bridgette agitated.
It was Luke.
Over the years, he had turned from a nice-looking boy into a handsome man. He was strong, smart, funny and caring. In short, Luke Walker was everything that Bridgette wanted in a man—that was if she wanted a man at all.
With him so near, she’d have to keep her emotions in check. It would be too easy to fall for Luke Walker a second time—and he was one mistake she refused to make twice.
* * *
Luke stared at the door to Bridgette’s apartment long after it shut. She had been less than happy to see him at first, that was for sure. Had it been, as she claimed, shock that came out sideways and only appeared to be displeasure? Or had seeing him truly left her upset? For some reason, Luke would bet on the latter, although he didn’t know why he’d place that wager.
Shaking his head, Luke stepped into his apartment and closed the door. At the window, he looked at the street below. There, soaking wet, was Julia. She stared up at his apartment. For a moment, their gazes met. She stepped forward, her hand outstretched.
He closed his curtains.
Bridgette was right. Julia staring at his apartment and store day after day was peculiar. Moreover, it was time her obsession ended. Lifting the phone from the charging stand, he used an app to find a number for Julia’s mom. He’d only met Nancy Jones once. During that brief introduction, she appeared to be a caring woman, one who was truly concerned for her daughter’s well-being.
He placed the call and it was answered on the second ring. “Yes?”
“Hi, Nancy. This is Luke Walker.” He paused, not sure how to categorize his relationship with Julia.
Thankfully, Nancy saved him from thinking too hard. “Of course, I remember you, Luke. I’m sorry to say, but Julia is working late tonight.”
“Working?” he echoed.
“Yes, she just called an hour ago and said that her boss needed her to stay late.”
Luke pulled back the curtains and peeked through the seam between fabric and wall. Julia still stood on the street. Rain dripped from her dark hair and her clothes were soaked.
“Nancy, I hate to tell you this,” said Luke. “But Julia isn’t at work.”
“No, you’re mistaken. She called me.”
“I’m not mistaken,” said Luke. “Honestly, I wish I was. Julia has been watching my business and home for the past month and a half. She comes early in the morning and returns later in the day.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” said Luke. “In fact, I’m looking at her right now. She’s standing on Main Street and looking up at my apartment.”
Nancy sucked in a breath. “I hoped that things had gotten better for Julia. That she was...well, better.”
“Really, ma’am. I am so sorry. I didn’t know what to do besides call you.”
“No need to apologize,” said Nancy. “You did the right thing. I’m going to call her now and see if I can talk her into coming home.”
“Good luck,” said Luke. Nancy had already ended the call and the line was dead.
* * *
Julia stood on the street, staring at the building and the closed curtains. Her phone, tucked into her jacket pocket, began to vibrate and trill. She glanced at the screen. It was her mother. Tucking the phone back into her pocket, she ignored the call.
She didn’t have the time to be distracted.
Luke had made contact. The games they’d been playing were done and it was time to begin anew.
Rain fell in sheets. Julia’s breath froze into a cloud before being washed away by the storm. Earlier, she’d started shivering. Now she couldn’t feel her fingers or toes. Soon Luke would come to her. He’d bring her tea or maybe soup. He’d invite her to get warm and dry in his apartment.
It was almost like a scene in a movie—the same one the actor had been in.
Yet, this was not pretend. They were kindred spirits—soul mates, if you believed in that sort of thing. And, oh, Julia believed with every breath she drew and every beat of her racing heart.
Her phone shimmied again, shaking her jacket and sending a rivulet of rain streaming down her neck. It would be her mother again. Still, Julia couldn’t leave. Not when Luke was coming down the stairs and would open the door right...now.
Or now.
Or now.
The door remained closed.
Maybe he was starting the kettle for tea. Or perhaps he was drawing a bath for them both. He’d be down any minute, like...now.
Her phone stopped ringing.
It began an instant later.
Julia fished the phone from her pocket and swiped the call open. “What, Mother? I am working.”
“No,” her mother said, her voice hoarse from crying. “You aren’t. You’re lying to me and—what’s worse—lying to yourself.”
Julia’s face went numb. Her fingertips began to throb. How could her mother know? For months, Julia told her mother that she was employed as an administrative assistant at Colton Construction, working for Mr. Colton personally. The story was almost true. Julia did work at CC, just part-time and in the mail room. One day soon, though, she’d be noticed and promoted. “I’m in a meeting, Mother. I told you that already.”
“You aren’t working,” said her mother, steel in her watery tone. “You are standing on the street in the pouring rain and staring at Luke Walker’s apartment.”
Julia’s chest tightened, making it impossible to breathe. “Who told you such a lie?”
“Luke just called and said you’ve been stalking him.”
“No,” said Julia. “Luke will come to me any minute.”
“He won’t. Your relationship with that man is over. You need to get home now.”
“I won’t,” said Julia, stomping her foot. She splashed a puddle, frigid water washing over her leg and shoe.
“Sweetie, you need to come home on your own right now, or I’m going to have to call the police. From there, you’ll go to the hospital. You know that.”
Not the hospital, with the piss-yellow floors and walls the color of a cloudy day. Not the hospital, where she had to take handfuls of pills that made Julia feel as if she was watching her pathetic life and not living it. Not the hospital, where the orderly told Julia she was pretty—beautiful, really—and left his hand on her thigh long enough for her skin to crawl.
She wasn’t crazy. She didn’t need to be locked up.
What she needed was Luke.
He was on his way—she could feel it in her bones. He was about to open the door...now.
Nothing.
“Julia,” said her mother. “Answer me right this minute. If you don’t, I’m hanging up and calling the police. Julia, are you there?”
“Yes, Momma. I’m here.”
“Now, there’s a good girl. You need to come home, you know that.”
“Yes, Momma.”
“Are you on your way?”
“Yes, Momma.”
“And, Ju
lia?”
“Yes, Momma.”
“I do love you, honey. I only want what’s best.”
Julia ended the call and walked back to her car, her shoes squelching with each step. She started the engine, turning the heater to the highest setting. A blast of cold air shot from the vents.
Damn car.
The engine wouldn’t be warm enough to make heat until she got home.
She sat behind the steering wheel, wet and trembling.
What had changed?
Had Luke really called her mother?
Did she dare to think—to hope—that her mother was lying?
Then again, if he had called, why?
And that brought her questions back, full circle.
What had changed?
Julia knew most every move Luke had made. Today was no different from any other. There were a few customers at the store early. She figured that had made him happy.
Why then was he angry at her?
If only they could talk.
That would have to wait for another day. If Julia didn’t get home soon, her mother would make good on her promise to call the police.
Julia recalled little of her drive, and soon she turned onto the quiet street where she lived with her mother. She pulled into the driveway as a thin tendril of heat leaked from the vent.
“Figures,” Julia grumbled while putting the gearshift into Park.
Her house sat at the back of a small yard. A single tree stood near the street. The branches were already bare and dripped rainwater onto the sidewalk. Twin lights in sconces on either side of the door were ablaze, washing the front stoop in a warm golden glow. She was home.
Yet, she knew her homecoming would be less welcoming than the front of the house.
Her mother would be furious at Julia for lying.
Too bad she couldn’t sit in the car forever. Then again Julia was cold, wet and hungry. A little ire from her mother was a small price to pay for a warm house and a hot meal.
The storm had passed and a fine mist hung in the air. Shuffling from the car, Julia opened the front door. The air was warm and the savory scent of beef stew greeted her. Standing in the foyer, Julia slipped out of her coat and hung it on a stand. Rain dripped from the sleeves and gathered in a puddle on the floor.
The faint glow of the TV filled the darkened den. She didn’t pause and try to find her mother in the gloom. Tiptoeing past the doorway, Julia hoped that tonight she’d get lucky. Maybe, she could get a bowl of stew from the kitchen and sneak into her room, never speaking once to her mother.
Stepping into the kitchen, Julia flipped a switch, filling the room with light. There, at the table, sat her mother. An oxygen tube ran from her nose to a small tank that was hooked to the back of the wheelchair.
It was years of smoking that had left her mother’s body shriveled and racked with illnesses. The worst of it was that, despite her illness, Nancy’s mind was fully intact. Years before, Julia’s father had left to get cigarettes and never came back.
It was then that Julia’s mother vowed to smoke forever. Though Julia never understood how that made her mother fearless or bold.
“Sit,” said her mother, pointing to a seat opposite at the small table.
“I’m really wet and tired, Momma. I just want some stew. Can’t I eat in my room, just this once?”
“You know I don’t like food in the rooms—it brings about pests. I also don’t like fibs. Lies. We need to talk.”
Julia opened her mouth to argue but could think of nothing to say, and she dropped into the seat. Her mother wheeled herself to the stove. Slowly she lifted to standing. It took several minutes for Nancy to move along the kitchen counter, collecting a bowl, spoon and slices of bread.
Her stomach contracting painfully with hunger, Julia waited. Her mother liked to cook and prepare dinner. It gave her a sense of purpose, a glimpse into her former life.
Nancy placed the food in front of Julia with a thunk of crockery on faux wood. Brown broth sloshed over the bowl’s lip, disappearing into the floral-patterned place mat. She set down sliced bread on a plate.
Dropping back into her chair, Nancy took deep gulps of air, as if she were drinking from a garden hose. It gave Julia a moment to eat before having to speak to her mother.
“Tell me the truth,” said her mother after a moment. “What’s going on.”
Julia ripped a piece of bread and trailed it through the stew. “Nothing’s going on.”
“Let’s start with the job. Is that made up? Do you work for Colton Construction—or anywhere at all?”
“I do work for Colton Construction,” said Julia. “You’ve even seen my pay checks.”
“But you aren’t Mr. Colton’s personal assistant, are you?”
Julia took a bite of bread. She swallowed, gagged and rushed to the sink for water.
“You aren’t Mr. Colton’s personal assistant, are you?” her mother asked. There was a sharp edge to her words.
Now, more than ever, Julia felt as if she walked on the razor’s edge. She didn’t know what to say. Leaning over the sink, her hair fell forward, a damp curtain shielding her from the rest of the world. She slurped from the faucet long after her thirst was sated.
Her mother asked, “What do you do at work?”
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Julia said, “I’m in the mail room from ten o’clock in the morning until everything’s delivered. Sometimes, I make copies or stuff envelopes. It’s nothing glamorous.”
“It’s honest work. And you’ve been there since this summer?”
Julia nodded. “Yes, Momma.”
“Sit down. Finish your stew and tell me about work.”
Julia returned to the table and picked up her spoon. “I’m glad I can be honest with you, Momma. I wanted you to be proud of me, and assistant to the boss seems more important than sorting mail.”
“I am so proud of you, Julia. Working and holding a job is hard—and look at you, honey. You’ve been employed for months.” Her mother paused. “I wish you would have told me the truth from the beginning.”
“I guess I should have,” said Julia.
“We also need to talk about the boy.”
“Boy?”
“Luke Walker.”
“Momma, he’s not a boy. He’s a man.”
“You can’t hang around his apartment and store anymore.”
“Listen, Momma,” said Julia. “I just need to talk to him. If we speak, we can work out this misunderstanding.”
Nancy placed her hand on Julia’s wrist, the touch halting Julia’s words. Her mother’s fingers were gnarled, her skin thin and dry. “You have to let him go. Much as you like him, he has moved on. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” said Julia. A sheen of grease floated on top of the stew and her stomach roiled.
“I’m glad we had this talk. Remember, you can tell me anything.”
Julia stood and placed a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “I always remember.” And then she said, “Do you want me to clean up the dishes?”
Nancy shook her head. “While I can still do a few things, I will. You go and put on something warm and dry. You must be cold—your lips are trembling.”
Julia walked down the short hallway and slipped into her bedroom. She pressed the door closed with just the whisper of a sound. Her room was her sanctuary, a place her mother never entered. Standing in the dark, Julia stripped out of her damp clothes. With the cool air kissing her skin, she turned on the light. Every inch of her walls was covered.
There were photos of Luke Walker. Selfies of them both taken on each date—their smiling faces side by side forever. Then there were other pictures taken of Luke, those for which he hadn’t posed. The one where he ran past Julia, shirtless and covered in sweat. There were several of Luke walking from
the hardware store to the coffee shop, hands in pockets and gaze cast at the road. Or his return trip with a paper cup. There was one taken from across the street and through the front window of the hardware store. In that picture, Luke was nothing more than a shadow.
There was more than the pictures. Julia still had the stubs from the movie he took her to see. She had a napkin from the time they went to get ice cream and another from a roadside barbecue stand.
Tucked beneath her pillow and out of sight was a shirt Julia found draped over a ladder on the day that Luke cleaned the windows of Walker Hardware. She’d worn it to bed every night for months.
Much as her mother thought that Luke no longer cared, she was wrong.
Julia knew that she and Luke were meant to be together. Not just now, but always.
Chapter 5
Bridgette woke to sunlight streaming through sheer curtains. She stretched, taking up the whole bed. For the first time in years, she missed waking up in the arms of a man. She froze, mid-stretch. Breathless, she waited for the stab of guilt or the heaviness of grief to overtake her.
Neither came.
Was she ready to move on with her life even if it meant leaving memories of Henry behind?
More than that, was she ready to trust and hope and love for a second time?
Bridgette knew those kinds of thoughts were too deep to parse through without the benefit of coffee. Throwing back the blankets, she stood, stretched once more and padded to the kitchen. Last night, in her haste to move into her apartment, Bridgette had done only the most rudimentary shopping at the market. Cans of soup. Cheese. Bread. Cold cereal. Milk. Instant coffee.
Instant coffee and cold cereal seemed like a horrible way to start her day, especially since La Dolce Vita was right across the street. After pulling her hair into a ponytail and dressing in jeans and a sweatshirt, Bridgette pocketed her keys and credit card.
After taking the stairs to the ground floor, she stepped onto Main Street. Last night’s rain was long gone, leaving behind a sky of robin’s-egg blue, without a cloud in sight. The breeze still held a chill, and Bridgette was thankful for her sweatshirt. Jogging across the empty street, she pushed open the door to the coffee shop.
Colton's Secret History Page 5